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Lost in the Canon by Alfred R. Calhoun
Lost in the Canon by Alfred R. Calhoun
The scene of this narrative is laid in Southwestern Colorado, and the date is so recent that boys living out there at that time are only just beginning to think themselves young men-and it is really astonishing how soon boys leap into vigorous manhood in that wild, free land.
"We's 'bleeged to hab 'im, for dah ain't de least scrap ob meat in de camp!"
This stirring information was shouted by a stout negro boy of fifteen or sixteen years of age, who, with a long, rusty, single-barrel shot-gun in his arms, stood at the base of a towering mass of bare rocks, and looked eagerly up at two other youths creeping along the giddy heights, and evidently in eager search of something that had escaped them, but which they were determined to overtake.
The lithe form, long black hair, and copper-colored skin of one of the young hunters bespoke him an Indian of the purest type. He wore a close-fitting buckskin dress, and slung at his back was a short repeating rifle.
The other youth up the rocks, though bronzed on the hands and face to a color as dark as the young Ute's, had the blue eyes and curly yellow hair that told of a pure white ancestry. His name was Samuel Willett, and though not much more than sixteen years of age, his taller form and more athletic build made him look several years the senior of his red and black companions.
Sam Willett was armed and dressed like a hunter, and his well-worn equipments told that he was not out masquerading in the costume of a theatrical Nimrod.
The Indian youth, Ulna, and Sam Willett had chased a Rocky Mountain or bighorn sheep into the mass of towering rocks which they were now searching; and that they were not hunting for mere sport was proven by Ike, the black boy's repeated cry:
"We's 'bleeged to hab 'im, foh dar ain't de least scrap ob meat in de camp!"
"I want to get the meat as much as you do, Ike, so have patience!" Sam shouted down, without stopping in his pursuit an instant.
The two daring hunters disappeared, and Ike, whose desire for meat was greater than his love for the chase, began circling about the confused pile of rocks so as to keep his companions in sight.
The bighorn "sheep" is in reality not a sheep at all, but a variety of powerful mountain antelope, whose strength, speed and daring among the rocks and ca?ons are not the least wonderful things about the wonderful land in which he makes his exclusive home.
Even old Western hunters believe that these animals can leap from immense heights and land on their horns without harm, but this is an error.
While Ike was gazing with eager eyes and open mouth at the towering, volcanic cliffs, the bighorn came to view on a rock five hundred feet overhead.
The hunters were close behind, and the creature's only means of escape was to leap across a chasm fully thirty feet wide to another rock of a little lower elevation.
"Shoot! shoot!" yelled the excited Ike, as the bighorn gathered himself up and eyed the terrific gorge that beset his course.
As if stung to desperation by the shout the creature leaped forward with a force that must have cleared the gulf, and an accuracy that would have insured a landing on the other side, but just as it sprang into mid-air two shots rang out within a small fraction of a second of each other, and the bighorn came crashing down and fell dead at the black boy's feet.
In his wild excitement Ike discharged the rusty single-barrel shot-gun, which he had been hugging in his arms as if it were a baby. All the power of the old-fashioned weapon must have been in the report and recoil, for the former sounded like the explosion of a howitzer, and the latter was so terrific as to send the holder sprawling across the carcass of the bighorn.
Sam Willett saw all this as he hurried down the rocks, otherwise he might have thought when he had reached the bottom that the animal had fallen on his companion and faithful servant and killed him.
"Hello, Ike, old fellow, what's up?" asked Sam, as he helped the owner of the shot-gun to his feet.
"Is I all alive, foh shuah, Mistah Sam?" demanded Ike, as he stared wildly about him.
"Of course you are, and here is the meat you have been so eager for," said Sam.
"Wa'll, Mistah Sam, it's dat ar gun," said Ike, gazing sadly at the old weapon which he still held in his arms. "I ain't used her bad; ain't fired her off for more'n six months afore we kem out har from Michigan-dat's five months ago-an' now only to tink she's done gone back on me in dat are way."
The Indian youth, Ulna, had come down by this time, and when he took in the situation his fine, almost effeminate face was wreathed in smiles, that displayed a beautiful set of white teeth.
In a low, musical voice and without any accent, he said in excellent English:
"The sun is setting and we must hurry if we would reach the camp before dark."
"An' more partikler ez we've got to tote dis ar venizon home," said Ike, now wide awake to the necessities of the situation.
Each of the youths had a hunting knife in his belt, and they soon proved that these weapons were not carried for ornament.
With a rapidity and skill that would have won the admiration of an eastern butcher, they skinned and cleaned the animal, severed the mammoth head and then divided the meat into three parcels.
Each had to shoulder about fifty pounds, but being sturdy, healthy young fellows they did not seem to mind their burdens, as they started off with long, vigorous strides toward the west.
The sun in all his course does not look down on a wilder, grander or more desolate land than that which met the gaze of the young hunters, no matter to which side they turned.
Verdureless mountains of fantastic shapes rose into the cloudless sky on every hand.
Here and there in the crevices of the black volcanic rocks, over which they hurried, a stunted sagebush or a dwarf cactus suggested the awful barrenness of the place rather than told of vegetation.
They were in the land of ca?ons and drought, on the summit of the Great American Plateau where rain but seldom falls, where the streams flow through frightful gorges, and where men and animals have often perished from thirst within sight of waters which they could not reach.
Bleak and sublime as the land was, is, and ever must be, yet the belief-a well founded belief by the way-that its gloomy ravines contained gold, led hundreds of hardy miners and adventurers to look upon it as that El Dorado for which the early Spanish explorers in these wilds had sought in vain.
As the leader of the little party, Sam Willett, strode ahead, the deepening shadows of the mountains impelled him each instant to a quicker pace.
There was no apparent trail, yet Sam never hesitated in his course, but kept on as unerringly as a bird of passage, till he came to a great black rift that seemed to suddenly open at his feet.
Away down in the shadowy depths he could see a white band that told of moving water.
A glow, the source of which could not be seen, indicated a fire down near the base of the cliff, and the barking of a dog-the sound appeared to come from the depths of a cave-suggested a human habitation.
On reaching the crest of the chasm Sam Willett did not hesitate, but at once plunged down to what, to a stranger, would appear certain death.
Along the ca?on wall there was a steep but well constructed trail that afforded secure footing to a traveler who was not troubled with giddiness.
Without once stopping, Sam and his companions made their way to the bottom of the rift and forded the roaring torrent that thundered over its uneven bed.
On the ca?on wall, opposite to that by which they had descended, they saw about a hundred feet above the stream, what seemed like a number of illuminated pigeon holes. This was their home, the place to which had been given the not inappropriate name of "Gold Cave Camp."
With barks of delight, a big dog met them near the water and joyously escorted them up the other side to an irregular plateau, about a hundred feet in diameter, that shot out like the once famous Table Rock at Niagara.
This plateau was in front of the cave, in which the miners had made their home.
The background of light revealed the forms of three men. The dress and long cue of one bespoke him a Chinaman, the second was dressed like a hunter, and the third, a tall, powerful figure, had only his heavy beard and striking stature to distinguish him.
"Is that you, Sam?" called out the tall man, as the foremost of the party reached the plateau.
"Yes, father," was the reply, "and we have brought back some meat."
"Wa'll!" exclaimed the second man, "I didn't think thar was a pound of live meat left within twenty mile of yar."
"Hoolay! Bully! Now me gettee suppel!" cried the excited Chinaman, who was known by the fitting name of Wah Shin.
Preceded by Maj, the dog, Sam and his fellow hunters entered the remarkable cave-of which we shall speak hereafter-and laid the meat on the floor.
"I began to grow uneasy about you, my boy," said Mr. Willett, as he fondly kissed his son, "meat is very desirable, but I would rather suffer for it than be worried at your absence."
Sam explained about the delay in the hunt, and then went to a spring that rose from the floor of the cave close to the fire, and here he set the example of drinking and washing himself.
Meanwhile Wah Shin began to demonstrate his position in that strangely mixed company. In nearly no time he had steaks broiling on the coals, the savory odor of which made Hank Tims, the old guide, take long inhalations with great enjoyment.
Apart from meat there was an abundance of other food in this strange camp, so that in a very short time Wah Shin, with Ike's aid, had a most excellent supper spread on a table consisting of two roughly-hewn cedar slabs, supported at either end by a square stationary stone, that had been placed there by the original but unknown cave dwellers.
She spent ten years chasing after the right brother, only to fall for the wrong one in one weekend. ~~~ Sloane Mercer has been hopelessly in love with her best friend, Finn Hartley, since college. For ten long years, she's stood by him, stitching him back together every time Delilah Crestfield-his toxic on-and-off girlfriend-shattered his heart. But when Delilah gets engaged to another man, Sloane thinks this might finally be her chance to have Finn for herself. She couldn't be more wrong. Heartbroken and desperate, Finn decides to crash Delilah's wedding and fight for her one last time. And he wants Sloane by his side. Reluctantly, Sloane follows him to Asheville, hoping that being close to Finn will somehow make him see her the way she's always seen him. Everything changes when she meets Knox Hartley, Finn's older brother-a man who couldn't be more different from Finn. He's dangerously magnetic. Knox sees right through Sloane and makes it his mission to pull her into his world. What starts as a game-a twisted bet between them-soon turns into something deeper. Sloane is trapped between two brothers: one who's always broken her heart and another who seems hell-bent on claiming it... no matter the cost. CONTENT WARNING: This story is strongly 18+. It delves into dark romance themes such as obsession and lust with morally complex characters. While this is a love story, reader discretion is advised.
Hazel Queen had loved her husband with all her heart for three years. But the one thing she never saw coming was the cold, shocking truth: he wanted a divorce because his mistress was pregnant. Heartbroken and betrayed, Hazel decides to move on and returns to Queen Corp, where she steps into her true role as the powerful female president, worth hundreds of millions. This revelation shocks her ex-husband, Damon Price, who never knew that the woman he left behind was the mastermind behind the famous Queen Corp-the Heiress of the Queen family, who had supposedly died in a fire three years ago.
For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted. Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke. Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph. Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!" With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off." A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!"
Elisa watched as the most important people in her life showered the evil imposter-The fake heiress, with love. Elisa, the lost daughter of one of the most wealthiest family was found 18 years later and was brought back to her rightful home. However, someone had already taken her place. A fake heiress, the pampered little princess. Her coy acting and innocent façade made Elisa's real mother love her more than Elisa, her real daughter. That made Elisa, though, the true daughter end up as an adopted child. "Elisa, could you try not to appear in front of her too much as it could trigger her insecurities." Her parents had told her because of the fake heiress. "Elisa, You've taken everything away from her. Why can't you give her a little more?" Her fiancé had ordered her. Because of an unfortunate accident plotted by Isabelle-The fake heiress, Elisa was sent to prison and her family cut ties with her without a second thought. Four years, after much torture which led to her being crippled and blind on one eye, she was released, but got hit by a truck. While laying on the pool of her blood, she wanted to question, Why? Why had they all treated her so cruelly, while they love Isabelle unconditionally? She badly wanted to rip off Isabelle's mask of innocence, to reveal the fake, manipulative woman beneath. She was full of hatred. But after her death, she woke up back to when she was 18 years like all that happened were all nightmare. She was elated. She was reborn to re-live all that had happened in her last life, but now, her mission was to reveal mask beneath that woman and make everyone that made her suffer in her past life pay. It was her time for revenge! And definitely, she won't mess this up!
I was four months pregnant, a photographer excited for our future, attending a sophisticated baby brunch. Then I saw him, my husband Michael, with another woman, and a newborn introduced as "his son." My world shattered as a torrent of betrayal washed over me, magnified by Michael's dismissive claim I was "just being emotional." His mistress, Serena, taunted me, revealing Michael had discussed my pregnancy complications with her, then slapped me, causing a terrifying cramp. Michael sided with her, publicly shaming me, demanding I leave "their" party, as a society blog already paraded them as a "picture-perfect family." He fully expected me to return, to accept his double life, telling his friends I was "dramatic" but would "always come back." The audacity, the calculated cruelty of his deception, and Serena's chilling malice, fueled a cold, hard rage I barely recognized. How could I have been so blind, so trusting of the man who gaslighted me for months while building a second family? But on the plush carpet of that lawyer's office, as he turned his back on me, a new, unbreakable resolve solidified. They thought I was broken, disposable, easily manipulated – a "reasonable" wife who would accept a sham separation. They had no idea my calm acceptance was not surrender; it was strategy, a quiet promise to dismantle everything he held dear. I would not be handled; I would not understand; I would end this, and make sure their perfect family charade crumbled into dust.
"I will marry you. Wait for me!" Mabel woke up. She had that dream again. In her dream, a man said he would marry her. Just a dream. Five years ago, she was set up by her stepsister and became pregnant out of wedlock. She lost everything, including her baby. Five years later, she was forced to marry her stepsister's fiance, Jayden, who was sick and going to pass away. Having no choice, Mabel decided to marry Jayden, not expecting that Jayden was the man...
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